Update from Atlanta

Sure glad I wasn't on this flight.

Put to the test

Okay, kids, POP QUIZ!

You find yourself at work, in the middle of a 5.4 earthquake. Do you:

A.) Hide under your desk

B.) Stand under a supported doorway

C.) Run outside into an open field or park

D.) Update your Facebook status

Well, apparently I was in the minority for thinking the answer was B, as I was the only person at work standing under my doorway. Everyone else, it seemed, wanted to get outside, away from the building, so I followed them to the sidewalk.

When we went back in, maybe five minutes later, I thought to myself "I wonder how many people have already updated this on their Facebook status?"

The answer, at just before noon, was 10. Now that has more than doubled.

At first, I just thought it was funny that everyone's - including my own - instinct was to share the experience. Some people were being practical, letting friends and family know that all was well. Some clearly did it for bragging rights, and some people, like me, were probably just excited to have something new and interesting to share. After all, if it didn't happen on Facebook, did it really happen at all?

Then, having lived in New York through both 9/11 and the Blackout of 2003, I found myself wondering what those days would have been like had some similar application been around then. Sure, we were lacking electricity and phone service for a while, but nowadays almost anyone can text their way onto Facebook if their wireless access goes down. My parents aren't on Facebook but some relatives are, and it could certainly serve as one-stop shopping to keep everyone else in the loop.

Anyway, for those of you wondering, I am fine. I work in a very old (historically landmarked) brick building, and the walls crumble down on a good day! When it first started, I thought it was just a small one, but it got very loud and a little scary pretty fast; then, just as quickly, it was over. I do have a bit of a mess of brick and mortar debris to clean up, but there was no major damage to anything beyond some people's nerves.

I was curious returning home to my apartment tonight, but from the looks of it, you'd never know there was a quake at all. Not a single frame or vase or any of my 10,000 beauty products were a smidge out of place.

What I've come to realize about quakes is that by the time you can think to be scared of them, they are over. And, after they are over, I have a tendency to forget that I might have been scared, because I can't remember how long it lasted or how loud it was or what it really felt like having the floor roll beneath my feet. My brain only remembers thinking everyone was overreacting for going outside and that I really wanted to finish my status report.

The only thing I even should be concerned about at this point is that earthquakes tend to happen in groups, and this may have only been the first in a while to rattle our chains. Fortunately, I am leaving tomorrow for my annual trip to Hotlanta, and will hope that the friendly skies prove a bit more stable than solid ground.

Just a little more wining

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post complaining that Facebook, with its gossipy news feed and sudden influx of my (now married) high school class, sparked an insecurity I haven't felt in years. Now, in addition to making me self-conscious about being single, it's also found a way to imply that I'm inadequate as a consumer.

13 of your friends installed the Facebook for iPhone application to their phones.

Really, though? The iPhone, apparently, is the new Benetton Rugby. Only my seventh grade PA system didn't announce, every morning, who happened to have one. If this isn't the definition of "peer pressure," I don't know what is.

Fortunately, I didn't have to impress any Facebook friends this weekend, and instead spent it with real ones at Laura's bachelorette party.

I've mentioned before that Laura was one of my first friends in LA. She's just very warm and friendly and easy to be with, and the crowd this weekend reflected that. There were fourteen of us there from all walks of Laura's life - high school, college, and the post-college group of girls she charmed just like me - and everyone was just so fun, so normal, and so great to be around. It was a refreshing, relaxing, exhilarating weekend.

The endless bottles of wine I'm sure had nothing to do with it.

Who am I gonna call? Reason 458 why I could use a boyfriend

I haven't been sleeping.

When I went out on Friday night, I somehow found myself in the middle of a discussion on ghosts, with two people who have seen them throughout their lives. And when I say I "found myself in the middle" of it, of course I mean I started the discussion. Because that's what I do.

Anyway, since that night, I have been too scared to fall asleep in my bedroom, so I've been sleeping in my living room in front of the TV. I've also started taking Tylenol PM's to help me relax enough to unclench every nervous muscle, and that has been helping, but I'm still waking up a million times to various infomercials and laugh tracks and sometimes, silence. Worried that now that I have had this discussion, out loud, I've invited their ghosts into my life or have suddenly become more enlightened to what was maybe hanging out here anyway.

Nothing has happened, of course, except my purse randomly falling off the table, and some weird things with my TV. But the whole thing just makes me more excited to go away this weekend and share a hotel room with a few other girls, so maybe I can sleep in a bed with the lights off like a normal 32 year old woman. Because right now I feel anything but normal.

It's my friend Laura' bachelorette weekend, and we're headed up to Santa Ynez, which will be my fourth trip up there in less than three years. There are 15 of us, which should make for some interesting group dynamics, but I'm really looking forward to spending time with her and away from my own neuroses for a while.

A change will do you good

I promise I'll stop talking about my trip to Canyon Ranch soon, but one other thing happened that may have changed my life. I came away from the trip inexplicably addicted to yoga.

You'll recall I didn't even do the sunrise yoga as I so casually threw out as an option the day before. You'll probably also recall my saying that I don't even do yoga; I've tried it on and off for years and not only have I never really liked it, I've been incredibly annoyed by and impatient with it.

So how was it that I woke up the Saturday after returning from my trip with an insatiable urge to attend an afternoon class? Were the fugly yoga pants I had bought earlier in the week calling out from my suitcase, begging me not to return them to the desperate, disheveled sale rack at the Gap? Had the chakra balance I downloaded the night before begun to work so soon, brainwashing my mind into thinking I might actually enjoy breathing deeply in a crowded room looking at someone else's dirty feet?

What the hell, I figured. I don't feel like running today, anyway.

So I went Saturday afternoon. And again Sunday morning. And by Monday, my body ached in an unfamiliar yet not at all unwelcome way. I felt kind of amazing. Stretchier. Limbier. More purposeful. Hungry for more.

Afraid I might gain five pounds if I cut back cardio completely, I made myself run and lift during the week. But Friday night I rewarded myself for a hard week with an after-work class. And when I realized I reflectively thought of it as a reward, it occurred to me that I hadn't been this excited about any exercise since I took kickboxing eight years ago, and started running a few years before that.

I've been looking forward to the gym for two weeks now. I haven't done that in years. At least, not in a "I can't wait until work is done!" or "I can wake up an hour early!" kind of way. I count the days until I can take a class, and make my runs count on the days I can't. And even though it's only been two weeks, it's been a very nice change, thus far.

The only problem is that now I am going to need an entirely new gym wardrobe.

Fun in the sun

Thank you to everyone who commented on or emailed me about the last post. It was so ridiculously long, I give props to anyone who read the whole thing, let alone analyzed it and gave me their own feedback. Thank you.

Since I've done a lot of writing recently, I thought I would sum up this weekend with a photo essay. Enjoy. And please ignore the fact that I wore the same bathing suit two days in a row. In fact, please ignore the fact that I wore a bathing suit entirely. Thanks.

In need of a spiritual bath and an interview with Dr. Drew

If I left the Shamanic Journey feeling like I got answers to some lifelong questions, the Clairvoyant left me asking more questions than either of us had answers. Rather than providing clarity or understanding, the whole experience left me extremely confused and truthfully, a bit unsettled.

When I walked in, we did some deep breathing to open up my energy. Immediately she commented that I am very intuitive, extra sensitive to other people's energies, and that I have some blocking in my second/sacral chakra, which is where I pick up said energies. She suggested that I start paying attention to how I feel, bodily, when in a crowd such as a mall or the grocery store, that negativity, especially, affects my psyche.

I then recalled my trip to Santa Ynez with John a few years ago (which, when I read over it now, seems a bit prophetic). We stayed at the Chumash Casino and Resort, and after dinner, decided to check out the casino. Within minutes of walking in, I decided I needed to leave. The people in the room seemed horribly sad and downtrodden and it pained me to be there. Not in the physical sense, like I was sick to my stomach - as a blocking in my sacral chakra would suggest - but in a panicky, dread-filled kind of way. I insisted to John that we get out of there, ASAP, and we did.

I also have always felt very intuitive, and pretty knowledgeable about when my energies are lined up. I'm sure I've written that phrase a million times on this blog (like in that post!). Throughout the reading, the clairvoyant kept going back to this concept, often remarking, "You're just so intuitive, Lori." She also kept going back to the idea that I needed to do some clearing, because I was so congested with other people's stuff. After the third or fourth time she mentioned cleansing, though, I couldn't help but feel a little bit dirty.

She said that when I walked in, my energy was closed - held close to my body - and that's what I do to protect myself. I know I do that. And when I breathed in, my energy opened up, and that is the energy I want to be living. We did a little protection ritual to let me know I was safe there, that I could open up. (Like cleansing, protection will become a common theme.)

Suddenly she got a vision of me on a trampoline. As she started to describe it, she cut herself off.

"Talk about fourth grade. What was going on?"

"I was in a play in fourth grade."

I proceeded to tell her about being cast as the White Rabbit in our school nutrition play, Alice in Bodyland, how it was a role perfectly suited to me, I had the best teacher, it was the best year. Anyone I went to elementary school with would recall the play; if you hadn't been in Mr. Greenberg's class, you wanted to be, because his plays were the highlight of every year.

"Okay, where you are in your life right now, is perfect. You are getting ready to jump into something. Something is opening. For all the elation you felt in fourth grade, that everything was lined up - you are either right there now, or you are just stepping into having the right teacher and everything you wanted."

She asked me what in my life was going really well. "Pretty much everything," I answered. Work was good, friends were good, home was good. The only thing I was missing and wanting was a man.

She said, "Do you feel like you are being who you really are?" Now, that's a loaded question. Yes, I do think I am being myself, but the sheer fact that she asked that made me doubt it. Could she see something I couldn't? Have I been lying to myself, carrying on some sort of alternate persona to get through the day and my life in LA? I answered as truthfully as I could.

"I think so," I said."But I do feel antsy, like I feel things are all lined up and I'm just waiting to get to the next level."

And then she said, "Romance, partnership - what is best for you is to do some spiritual practice. Some sort of cleansing. If you attracted a partner right now, it would be someone who is more in alignment with where you have been, not where you want to go." More talk about needing protection and cleansing rituals. I am starting to feel broken at this point. Not because it's not the right time for romance, but because whatever I have been doing is wrong or tainted in some way.

"You can not bring anything else into your life at all. There is too much. Your soul knows you are moving into a higher vibration, and if you go into it with all this stuff, you are going to magnetize all this weird junk that you don't need to be carrying around with you."

"Something happened four years ago where your heart got broken and said, 'Okay, we're going to take a little break and sit in a box on the mantle for a while.'" It was actually five years ago, but yeah.

"Your heart wants out of the box, but it needs protection [again, ugh!]; it's not going to come out to ogres."

"You're moving into it, and whatever is in that space its all waiting for you, but your higher self wants to make sure you are ready. You anticipate that something is coming. You're antsy for it. But be in the present. Anything you need to do now, anything you want to do now, do anything now as if it is the last time you ever have. Because it will be." Her voice was so firm, it came out sounding more ominous than enlightening.

"Where you are moving, you won't be interested in that stuff." Oh, okay. "Clear up anything you have - clean your garage, write letters, make phone calls. You want to be ready, and they won't bring you in if you're not. They want you to be completely ready, cleansed and purified." (Honestly? Enough already.)

"Do you love words? Are you a writer? That's a gift that you have. Use it, use it use it. It's a very huge gift for you, and now is a wonderful time for you to be writing. It just comes spilling out for you."

I asked her again about romance, and she very surely said that it's in my best if I don't have one. That I know, or am getting ready to meet, a teacher - not a school teacher, but someone who is going to teach me something, someone that shows me where I need to go.

Then, she very pointedly asked me, "Do you go to AA meetings?"

Um, no.

"Oh, I see you at an AA meeting, or Al Anon, or in a library - something not with a ton of people, casual."

"Do you have a brother? A male in my life about your age, I'm hearing 38. That you know that has some sort of AA, Al Anon, a drinker, uses more drugs than he should?"

Um, no.

"Someone about 38 - you do know someone - either with your work or a bit removed, something to do with work - someone is sad, not expressing himself. He might look like a casual drinker, but it's more than you think. I think that is someone who is a teacher for you. He may seem demanding, harsh, mandating, an asshole, but you are going see behind it. It's so sad." She starts crying.

I honestly can't think of who she means. I know one person who has been to AA, but I don't see or speak to her much. I'm sure I know a few guys that are 38, and one, in fact, who is 37 and very much a teacher, but he is the farthest thing from demanding or mean. She also gave me a few names that came to her, but none of them mean anything to me now. (If they do in the future, I'll let you know!)

"I've got to tell you Lori, you are just very, very intuitive. It just feels like a screen has been put in front of you that has worked for you to not know too much, not see to much, not feel too much."

If I could count the number of times I've been told I hide my emotions behind a screen, that I keep to myself... I asked, "You mean like a screen door?"

"No," she said. "More like a Chinese bamboo screen, something more solid."

Oh, so it's gotten worse.

"When you replace that with something that is more mesh... you'll start noticing you are attracting different people. You are going to notice the people around you that have addictions - and I would say there are a few. Who in your life has addictions?"

"No one, that I know."

Am I wrong? Are there any addicts reading this? How well you must be hiding your habit. I had no idea.

"I think you have a few people in your life who have closet addictions. That is going to bloom for you - you will start to notice. You are going to start seeing things. You are going to tune into people who are sad, and who, in their sadness, turn to some sort of substance to tune themselves out. You will be great at tuning into people who don't express themselves."

So, basically, in addition to harboring a number of substance abusers in my life, I'm going to become some sort of dysfunctional ghost whisperer? Where instead of communicating with the dead, I'll be finely attuned to addicts and the emotionally unavailable? Awesome.

"Where you are right now, its great to attract and notice people who are on the fence of having addictions and who are doubting their own value, because that's the vibration you are in now, and you don't want to carry that to the new place."

That's the vibration I'm in right now? Really? To be completely honest, there may have been a time five years ago when I thought I might have a problem with alcohol, but that was when I was at the pit of my despair in New York. I drink considerably less now than I ever have in my life - or at least since turning 21. And when I did drink back then, or ever, really, it was never to compensate for a lack of value - it was primarily to distract myself from the dark thoughts I knew hid somewhere in my own head. Heart, mantle, etc.

I don't know. I know not to take this stuff literally. But after being told a million times that I needed to "cleanse" and that I am over-protective of my energy and emotions, I couldn't help but leave the session feeling like I was the one who was emotionally unavailable. Of course, she wasn't really telling me anything I don't already know.

I know that I hold energy close to my body, and I also know that when I let it go, I can light up a room. I have been told that my smile is infectious and that I possess a certain glow; but I am also very conscious of when I let that out and when I prefer to keep everyone at a distance. I'm a Gemini, I have two personalities - I just figured that was par for the course.

I did appreciate hearing that I'm not meant to find romance now. What a relief, actually, that I can take a break from wondering if every guy that comes around the corner or pops up at parties could have potential. Finally, I have an excuse not to try so hard! I had planned on going back online in a few weeks; now I am thankful to save that money and spare myself a few bad dates for while.

Reading back over this, for the hundredth time, I see that the overall message was positive. I am on the cusp of change, of greatness, of a happiness and comfort I haven't felt since fourth grade. But the idea that I'm going to start attracting sad people and addicts and that such a sad addict is going to be my teacher... I mean, how would you feel? And for someone supposedly so intuitive, how is it that I have no freaking idea who she might be talking about? Maybe I'm not so intuitive after all. Then, at least, she'd be wrong on both counts.

I have to say that unless my big change involves a publicist's job at VH1's Celebrity Rehab, I think I'm a bit nervous for the future.

Facebook makes me feel bad about my neck

As if it's not enough of a blow to see that the vast majority of my high school class has all successfully settled down into smug-marrieds and mommies-with-babies, now Facebook has started adding these updates to my feed:

9 of your friends are now friends with So-and-So

Okay. Great. So, So-and-So friend-requested nine people I know, but not me?

Thanks, Facebook. It really is like high school all over again.

Time traveling in Tucson

So. You know how on Wednesday I said that I had planned to spend my free time at Canyon Ranch doing Sunrise Yoga and getting a facial? Well, that didn't happen. Rather, I opted to further my "when in Rome" theory, deciding to draw on the resort's wealth of resources to experience my first Clairvoyant Reading and Shamanic Journey, instead.

I've always been intrigued by the idea of going to a psychic. But, I don't know - it's hard to know who to trust and who might be a quack. And I've never had any dire questions or need for knowledge; rather my interest has been borne out of a sheer curiosity that, while never abating, also never quite seemed important enough to risk part of my paycheck.

Shamans, on the other hand, weren't even on my radar until recently, and I probably would never seek one out; but when I saw the experience listed on the program menu, I figured I might be looking at a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

It's been almost 36 hours, and I'm still trying to come to terms with the experience. Both of them told me things that were spot-on, made perfect sense; they also both came out with concepts that were so seemingly random and unattached to anything in my life right now, they may as well have been referring to another person, or, at least in one case, another life.

For instance, the Shaman told me that I was very tuned into the animal world. Did I work with them now? Because I could read them and converse with them and had a very intense, deep connection with them. Ummm, not so much. I mean, I enjoy a cute puppy or kitten as much as the next person, and, sure, I felt a connection with my childhood pet. But now? I think most animals - wild and domestic - are dirty, annoying, a nuisance. (Except for your beautiful, loving, baby-delicious pets! They, of course, are just as awesome as you think they are. And no, I don't mind their fur all over my black pants. Seriously.) So there was that.

But the Shaman told me plenty of other things that completely resonated. She said I have always been surrounded by strong women - and that certainly feels right. She saw a few of my lives, but kept going back to one when I was raised among gypsies in Morocco; in my present life, of course, I have my mom who raised me, my aunt who inspired my camp, my college, and my move to NYC, and the fact that I have worked almost exclusively at women-run companies.

She also said that I was an old soul - I have lived many lives - but in all of them (or at least as many as she could see), I died very young. That may sound morbid to you, but something clicked within me. I've written before that when I was a kid, I was obsessed with ghosts. I also had an irrational fear of death and dying, and never thought I would live to be 18. Once 18, I was sure I would never make it to 21. Then 25. By the time I was 25 I was over it and chalked the whole thing up to a simple fear of the unknown - I hadn't known what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I simply couldn't picture it. But now, this information just felt like a puzzle piece snapping quietly, seamlessly into place.

The Shaman went on to say that this was, perhaps, the oldest I had ever been, and I was having a hard time with aging, becoming an adult. After all, I have never done it before. I think that's an interesting explanation for some of the anxiety and ambiguity I've felt over the last few years; I'm sure it's not the only one. I do wonder, though, if it has anything to do with my working in the beauty industry. After all, for the last nine years I've worked in a field entirely centered around women uncomfortable with their age, wanting to look younger.

She said some other things that made sense - she knew I was a writer, that I preferred open spaces and didn't like to be confined, and that I didn't like to do things I wasn't good at. I suppose a lot of people don't, but I used those exact words in a conversation pretty recently. I also, apparently, had a life in Siberia. Later, when I shared that with my co-workers, they, in unison, exclaimed, "So THAT's why you're always so cold!" (I am. Always. Freezing.)

At the end of the session, she said that my mission for this lifetime is peace. I don't know if that refers to internal peace or bringing peace to others, and I didn't ask for clarification. I suppose it seems a bit vague and almost like something she should say to everyone. I mean, if you tell enough people that they were put on this planet to bring peace, I imagine a few will be scared or guilted enough to attempt it. Right? But then she told my coworker that her mission was to heal, and this woman, well, she is a healer. She's the founder and president of my company that is based on "natural, healing ingredients." I think her mission has been pretty much accomplished.

She said some other things that resonated but are too detailed or banal to go into here. Also, unlike the clairvoyant, she didn't record the session, so I'm sure I'm forgetting a few things, though the main themes have stayed with me. Since I do have a transcription from the clairvoyant, I'll post more on that later this week. Fifty minutes of fortune telling is way too much for this post. Stay tuned...

Asking too much or expecting too little?

One of the nice things about having a closet full of identical black dresses is that when you get a last-minute invite to a movie premiere, the biggest question is, "Do I have time to shave?"

The answer to that question was "no", so I just went in my work clothes, which were totally fine, considering that the premiere was for Meet Dave, and other than the studio executives and the people actually in the movie, the majority of the attendees looked like they came straight from summer camp.

Sadly, Eddie Murphy didn't show, but we got a great view of Gabrielle Union, and some of the other actors I couldn't name at the time. The movie was, expectedly, dumb, but I laughed out a number of times and it was still a freaking premiere for which I felt slightly fabulous. (I know - I live in LA. I'm not supposed to get excited about this stuff anymore. But I do.)

I had only been to one other movie premiere before, for this, when I still lived in New York. My client had donated makeup for the production, so we got a few passes, and while the movie sucked, the after-party was great. I don't remember much except my friend Maria flirting with Tim Robbins. How do you beat that?

I would stop name-dropping now except that I also have to share that I am going here tomorrow, for work. It is just a quick, 24 hour trip, but they gave us a discount on treatments and my company is comping the rest. Friday morning I will wake up for Sunrise Yoga, and follow that with a facial before my flight. Not that I enjoy waking up at sunrise, or even yoga, for that matter, but I figure, when in Rome. I am just a teensy, weensy bit excited.

I also find myself asking, Who AM I? Whose life is this? I've spent four out of the last five weekends in Malibu, New York City, and Las Vegas, on top of living the dream in LA. I am going to movie premieres and destination spas and making soap with a soap star. This is more than I ever imagined my life would be when I moved out here. And I am certainly enjoying it, reveling in it, really. But part of me also wonders if I have all this awesome showiness at the expense of something a little less fleeting. There's only so much goodness in the world, after all. Is there any left for me to possibly, maybe, one day get into a relationship?

Then again, relationships are fleeting, too. My cheap, Forever 21 dresses could last longer.

When there are no fireworks

To me, the Fourth of July is similar to New Years in that I can pretty much recall how I celebrated any given year. There's always a party, a big to-do, and stories afterward that make for lasting memories.

Some of those memories, I'd prefer to forget.

In the summer of 2001, I was 25 years old and had recently reconnected with an old friend from camp. An older, male friend, if you will. GB and I hadn't seen each other since the summer of '93, when I was 17 and he was 22. We'd always shared a mutual crush and maybe a few stolen moments in the counselor room, but because of the age difference, nothing ever really happened between us.

But sometime that spring, we got back in touch, and met for coffee in my neighborhood in New York. He was a lawyer, living in DC, and was just as ridiculously good looking as I remembered.

[You know how there are people who maybe aren't conventionally good looking but their personalities make them so, and then there are other people whose natural features can practically stop traffic? Well, GB belonged to the latter category. (Ask any of my former camp friends or my roommate who answered the door that day and declared that he was the best looking man she'd ever seen.) With chiseled features and a full head of blond hair, he had the face of frat boy and the body of a handsome, head-turning Adonis.]

Immediately, sparks started flying, the air charged between us. We chatted straight through two cups of coffee, both of us grinning and googly-eyed.

We stayed in touch throughout the spring, and I was psyched when he invited me down to DC for the Fourth of July. In fact, he not only invited me for the Fourth, which fell on a Wednesday, but also to accompany him to the Hamptons that following weekend. Perhaps sensing that might be a bit much for someone I barely knew, I agreed to come down on Wednesday the Fourth, but I would head back to the city - alone - Friday morning. I figured if things went well I could always shoot out to the Hamptons for a night, but I didn't need to commit myself to a five day weekend so soon.

Smart girl.

I took a 7 AM train which deposited me in DC around 11. Exceptionally, physiologically excited, my hands began shaking in the cab ride over to his apartment. But from the first moment I saw him, I could tell things were different. GB wasn't distant, exactly, but he hadn't been dying to see me, either. His greeting was friendly and warm, but lacking some luster. There was not one ounce of attraction in the air.

At first, I thought, okay, give it some time - maybe a few drinks will loosen him up. But, over the course of the day, as we moved from beers by the river to cocktails overlooking the city, conversation remained painful, a struggle. Watching fireworks from his friend's rooftop, I wondered where on earth our coffee-shop chemistry had gone. I could forget about the weekend going out with a bang; instead, our connection had already fizzled out, disappearing unceremoniously in the distance between us.

He (thankfully) had to work the next day, so I gave myself a guided tour of the city, relieved to be free from the weirdness that had settled over us like a heavy cloud on a hot July day.

The air stayed clear until dinner that night, when we went to a quaint cafe. We sat silently with little to talk about, and I counted the hours until I could declare my independence from this increasingly awkward affair. When the bill came, I reached and offered to pay. And to my surprise, he let me.

Now, I always offer and will gladly pay my way. But after (approximately) five million years of dating, very few guys have ever let me. That night when I reached for the bill, I good-naturedly (and, clearly, insincerely) said, "Let me get this, as a thanks for letting me stay with you." Remembering, of course, that he had invited me to stay with him. It's not like I was in town on other business and asked him for a place to crash. He's the one that asked me there!

The bill was around $60. That may not sound like a lot now, and it shouldn't have been a lot to him, then, as a 30-year-old lawyer living in a two-bedroom condo in the middle of one of the nicest parts of the city. But it was a lot to me, a 25-year-old on a beauty PR budget - especially on top of my $120 train ticket down there.

Resentfully, I paid the bill. And on July 6th, all-aboard Amtrak, I finally celebrated my freedom.

Random Tuesday Goodness

I seriously have not been this busy, work-wise, in months. I'm actually pretty busy socially, too, but that seems to ebb and flow. Work, for the most part, is pretty tame, but suddenly I'm doing Power Points at 10 PM and don't see it ending til at least October. That, of course, is a good thing.

Remember last month when I said I had something planned every weekend in June? I can already say the same about July - and it's only the first day! Can someone please slow down the calendar, just for a minute? Or maybe a year?

Highlights of and funny stories from the wedding:

- Setting off the fire alarm in the bridal suite. Kris and I were getting makeup done, Maria and Sabrina were running around. Suddenly, the alarm goes off at full volume, throwing us all into a panic. What do I do in a panic? Well, grab my camera, of course. Must. Capture. Memories!

Fortunately, Maria was a quicker thinker than I, and raced into the bedroom to cover Kristin's dress, which was sure to be doused by the sprinkler system if this kept up. Just as we finally resigned ourselves to maybe stepping outside, the phone rang.

It turned out, the problem was coming from inside our suite: Sabrina left the steamer on, facing due north directly into the fire alarm. Only the Tarrytown Fire Marshall could turn the alarm off, so we sat, getting ready, under the shrill piercing for another 20 minutes. Fortunately, there were no sprinklers.

- I mentioned the weather? The wedding was set to start, outdoors, at 6:30. At 6:15, it started raining, and the crew transported the entire set-up - 10 foot flower arrangements, seating for 100 and all - inside. The wedding started maybe only 10 minutes late. And five of those minutes were because the Maid of Honor couldn't find her flowers. The wedding was held at Castle on the Hudson, and while I'm sure an outdoor ceremony would have been nice, I really preferred the old Medieval architecture and the sacred feel of the banquet hall.

- While dancing with one of Kristin's friends who I dated once or twice in New York, I was told that I had this happy glow about myself he didn't remember. "You just look so, so... radiant," he said, "so different from when I knew you." "I'm happy now," I replied. And I am.